Release.

[The following is an excerpt from April 1, 2013]

It comes once the sun has risen and the beeping alarm blares once again in my ear. A moment of panic. A moment of mere heartache that thumps and pounds and thrashes inside of my chest at the speed of life. A gust of breath fills my lungs, and I remember why I didn't sleep well and why the gastric acids in my stomach are churning once again. Like every morning since the endless night.

I check my phone. The light blinds me briefly. My eyes adjust. Nothing. 


Am I a skeleton or girl? I cross my toes for luck. Get out of bed.

Please...

I brush my teeth, wash my face in the dark, put on a fresh pair of clothes that don't match or fit correctly because it doesn't matter either way. Like clockwork, I prepare for a day I must face exhausted and dazed and stressed beyond oblivion.  Guzzle 4 glasses full. Put on socks.

Did you put on socks this morning?

Check my email. Spam. Spam. Spam. Worthless school announcements. Spam. Facebook notifications. Spam. Delete my emails. All of them.

Should I eat? Am I hungry? Do I need this? I grab a cereal bar and call it a day with a side of multivitamins. Swig and swallow. Wrong pipe. Ouch. 

Did you remember to eat? 

40 days and 40 nights. A sigh of relief. A sigh of desperation calling for one more night, one more touch, one more heartbeat lullaby singing you softly to sleep. Hush. Hush. Don't wake. Don't stir. Hold me closer, tiny dancer....

The agenda is simple. Class. Eat. Class. Eat. Workout. Shower. Sit in wonder, procrastinating away until the due dates zoom in on the points of panic attacks and sleepless nights and falling eyelashes and bags of Sour Patch Kids on my tongue. And I wonder why I'm no fun. 15 minutes to kill.

Did you have a good yesterday? I wanna know. 

My mind blanks. I wonder about why it happened and why me and why you and why us and why the sun still shines even when you're not smiling. Can't stop thinking. I could have stopped this. I could have cried wolf. I could have saved you. Shame on me. Tsk tsk tsk.

Please...

Log-in. Tightened shoelace lungs. Dust bowl tongue. Goosebumps like rockets.

5 hours. 

Release.